Page 24 of Going Deep (Odyssey #3)

She had a point. Still , he’d been hoping for a different activity—one that would require both of them to be naked.

The Foundation’s new worldwide childhood health initiative—and the partnership with the World Health Organization —had kept him out of town for most of the week, and this was the first time he’d seen her since last weekend.

The last thing he wanted to do was go to the batting cages.

But she looked awfully cute. She wore a Toledo Mudhens cap that looked as though she’d had it since she was a kid.

Her strong shoulders, freckled now due to all the time she’d been spending outside, were mostly bared by the thin tank top in bright blue.

Little navy blue shorts showed off long, strong legs, and battered sneakers covered her feet.

On the floor between her feet rested a Louisville Slugger that was at least as old as the hat. “ They have bats, you know.”

“I know.” She sent him a sunny smile. “ But I like this one.”

He shook his head and inched the car through a gap in traffic. “ It looks like a herd of rabbits attacked it.”

“Do rabbits come in herds?”

“I have no idea,” he said honestly. “ But if they do, that bat got attacked by one.”

She shrugged, unoffended. “ She may not be pretty, but she’s game.”

“She?”

Ginger snickered. “ When we were little, my sister Georgia insisted on naming all the inanimate objects in the house. This is Mabel .”

“Mabel, huh?” He grinned. “ What did she name the dining room table?”

“Princess Buttercup .”

He shot her an incredulous look. “ You’re kidding.”

“The Princess Bride was very big in our house.”

“Was the dishwasher named The Dread Pirate Roberts ?”

“No, that was the cat.”

He laughed.

“This is it, turn here.”

He eyed the sign dubiously. “ It says miniature golf.”

“And batting cages,” she pointed out. “ You’re going to miss the turn!”

“No, I’m not.” He made the turn, wound through the parking lot to a space at least a ten-minute walk from the batting cages, then cut the engine. “ Last chance,” he told her. “ We could be at my place in twenty minutes.”

Her eyes laughed at him as she shoved her door open. “ Not with that traffic. Come on. You can pound out your frustrations on a Spaulding .”

He watched her bounce out of the car and decided he’d save his pounding for later.

Ginger didn’t bother to hide her glee at the frustrated amusement on Michael’s face.

When he’d told her they could do whatever she wanted today, she’d known exactly what he’d been thinking.

Most any other time she’d have been thinking the same thing, but she’d spent most of her week unsuccessfully job hunting, and she felt the need to get out of the house and breathe in some fresh air.

And swinging a bat always helped when she was frustrated.

She shook her head, determined to put her dismal job prospects out of her mind for the afternoon. She had her bat and a sunny day to enjoy, so she’d worry about her life some other time.

After a quick stop at the ticket booth to buy the swipe cards that would make the pitching machines work, they headed to the outdoor cages. Ginger spotted two unoccupied cages side by side, and pointed. “ There ,” she told him, and trotted down to step into the furthest one.

She picked up the batting helmet that hung on a hook and plunked it down on her head over her Mudhens cap, then realized he was standing outside the cage door, watching her.

“What?”

“Nothing.” His lips quirked, and he looked her over, very deliberately. “ You’re just very cute.”

She wrinkled her nose. “ Cute ? I’m not cute.”

He snorted a laugh. “ Okay .”

She put her hands on her hips and shot him a stern look, ignoring the way her breath quickened at the sight of him.

He was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, but the casual attire in no way diminished his attractiveness.

In fact, it might just enhance it. God help her if he got all sweaty. Sexy and damp and salty…

Drawing herself up, she pointed to his cage. “ Never mind. You just go on in there and pound some balls.”

His eyes glittered at her phrasing as he selected a bat from the rack and entered the cage next to hers. “ You’re getting awfully bossy there, darling. You might want to watch you don’t get too big for your britches.”

Certain she’d pay for it later—counting on it, in fact—she rolled her eyes. “ Yadda , yadda, yawn. I’m busy here.”

His lips twitched even as his eyes went hot. Oh yeah, she’d pay for that later, and felt the not unpleasant jitter of anticipation.

But right now, she wanted to pound balls.

She swiped her card in the machine, chose a setting that would vary the speed and location of the pitches, and hit the go button. Shutting everything else out, she grabbed her bat, stepped up to the plate, and waited for the pitch.

Michael was forced to admit he was having fun.

After the first couple of pitches—which he’d imagined were Ginger’s ass under his paddle—he’d forgotten about what he’d hoped to be doing with his day and settled in to enjoy himself.

After twenty minutes he’d worked up a decent sweat, and to his surprise, a lot of the work-related tension he’d been carrying around for the best part of a week had drained away.

This had been a good idea. Maybe he wouldn’t beat on her too badly for her sass.

Then he grinned. Who was he kidding? Yadda yadda yawn?

He stifled a laugh. Oh , she’d pay for that one.

He’d been in the cage longer than he’d thought, and surely she must be done by now.

He’d just collect her and bundle her off so he could get started.

He slipped off the helmet and turned, expecting to find her waiting for him in the long hallway that ran behind the cages. It was empty. With a frown, he swiveled around to look behind him into the cage she’d been using. Surely she wasn’t still?—

She stood at the plate, bat on her shoulder, eyes forward.

When the pitch came, she swung—pivoting on her back foot, front leg extending, hips twisting to drive power through.

There was a loud crack as her chewed-up wooden bat made contact, sending the ball soaring.

She held the position for just a moment, watching it fly, then settled back in for the next pitch.

He pursed his lips, leaving his own cage to stand behind hers. She never noticed. Pitch after pitch—some high, some low, some fast, a few changeups—she sent all of them flying.

His eyes narrowed when he saw her lips moving. Talking to herself? He watched for a moment, then nearly burst out laughing. She was singing.

He watched her send a ball sailing, then swung the bat back up on her shoulder to prepare for the next. Her lightly tanned skin was glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, a line of damp running down the back of her shirt.

He heard the chime of the bell, signaling her pitches had run out. Muttering to herself, she turned back to the control box, swiped her card again, then flipped the dial on the pitch selector. Frowning , she finally settled on a setting, and without looking up, went right back to the batter’s box.

“Hey, O’Reilly !”

Michael glanced up, looking around to see who’d called his name. He grinned when he recognized the lanky blond man striding toward him. “ Sean .”

“I thought that was you.” Sean’s grin broke out as he clasped Michael’s hand in a hard grip. “ What the hell are you doing here?”

Michael nodded at the cage where Ginger was smashing Spauldings . “ Just watching my girl do her thing.”

“Yeah?” Sean turned, his brown eyes widening. He watched Ginger connect and shoot a line drive toward where third base would be. “ Damn .”

“I know.” He grinned as another ball went sailing. “ I’ve never been so turned on by baseball.”

Sean let out a barking laugh. “ She’s fine, man. And she can hit. You ought to send her my way, I could use her.”

Michael saw red for one brief moment before he remembered Sean coached an adult fast-pitch softball team. He forced his shoulders to relax. “ You still coaching?”

“Season ended last weekend, but there’s always next year.” Sean eyed Ginger’s form as she sent another ball out. “ That’s a hot bat. We might win a few games with her on the team.”

“Talk to her,” Michael invited. “ She might be into it.”

Sean narrowed his eyes. “ Is she talking to herself?”

“Singing,” Michael said with a grin. “ Right now, I think it’s Aretha Franklin . Respect .”

Sean narrowed his eyes, then laughed as he realized she was indeed spelling out ‘r-e-s-p-e-c-t’. “ Whatever works.”

Michael nodded. “ What brings you out if the season’s over?”

Sean jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “ Some of the kids from the Center . We bring ‘em out, let ‘em hammer their frustrations out on some baseballs a couple times a week when the weather’s good.”

Michael nodded in approval. “ Nice .”

“Haven’t seen you there lately,” Sean put in.

“I haven’t been by in a few months,” Michael acknowledged. He tried to make it in to the community center that bore his family’s name a few times a month, to volunteer or just see how things were running, but the summer had kept him busier than he’d expected.

Sean jerked his chin at the batting cage, and the blonde in it. “ She the reason why?”

“Part of it,” Michael admitted. “ Couple of other things.”

“Yeah, we heard about the new childhood health initiative.” Sean tucked his hands into his pockets. “ That’s gonna make a difference for a lot of kids.”

“That’s the hope.”

He turned his head as the bell sounded to signal the end of the round, and watched Ginger step back from the plate. She tugged off the batting helmet and the baseball cap to swipe an arm across her forehead, then she glanced up.

Her eyes widened with surprise when she saw him standing there, then she smiled. “ Hey .”

“Hey.” He watched her stroll over, appreciating the easy, athletic way she walked. “ Nice work.”

“Thanks,” she said, just a little breathless. “ Tanked a few of the last ones. I’m getting tired.”